


i bet you look good on the dancefloor

by another_promise



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, General Shenanigans, M/M, Valentine's Day, unrealistic coincidences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 02:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5989099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/another_promise/pseuds/another_promise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two strangers meet on Valentine's Day weekend. It's sort of like a Cinderella thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i bet you look good on the dancefloor

**Author's Note:**

> So, I saw Zayn's pink hair and immediately got inspired to write a Valentine's Day Ziam fic. I've been writing fic off and on for a while now but I've never actually posted any of my stories on here before. I hope this fluffy fic is as fun to read as it was to write!

**Friday, February 12th: Two Days Before Valentine’s Day**

“No one wants to be alone on Valentine’s Day, Liam, come on.” Niall’s voice is a little too loud in the crowded dining hall, causing Liam’s cheeks to grow warm. The last thing he needs is for the whole student body to know that he’s pathetically, hopelessly single.

Liam rolls his eyes at Niall. “Well, I’m not desperate enough to go to single’s night at that shitty bar you like so much. Thank you for the invitation, but I’d rather be alone on Valentine’s Day than with a bunch of sad single people. Trust me, Niall, they’re the only ones who go out to those things.”

Niall throws a fry at Liam, earning a glare. “No offense, but you _are_ a sad single person. You cried last night when we were watching _Friends_ —”

“Oh, come on, Monica and Chandler getting engaged is a very emotionally charged moment—”

“—and you kept muttering about how lucky they were to have each other—”

“—and, you know, I had a couple beers too many, and I was tired, and yesterday was a long day—”

“ _Liam_. C’mon, what’s the worst that could happen? We show up, there’s no one there that catches your eye, we go home, end of story. The drink specials are good, and I’ll be there by your side the whole time. Please? _Please._ Do it for _me_. You’re not the only one who wants to find love,” Niall pleads, his eyes wide. 

And Liam’s always had a hard time saying no to Niall, always had a hard time letting him down. So he takes a deep breath, lets out a long sigh, and pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Fine. _Fine_. I’ll go to the stupid single’s mixer with you on Sunday. But we’re going to have to pregame, I can’t do this sober. And you have to buy all my drinks for the entire night.”

Niall considers this for a moment before letting out a bark of laughter. He reaches out to clap Liam on the shoulder. “Fuck yeah!” he says with a grin, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth.

 _Great. So now I’ll be pathetically, hopelessly single on Valentine’s Day with a room full of equally sad people_ , Liam thinks to himself as he takes a sip of his water. 

At least he’ll be drunk.

—

It’s a slow day at the library. Granted, most days are slow outside of finals week, and Liam doesn’t mind. He’s reshelving poetry books, blasting some Fetty Wap and trying not to think about how much homework he’s going to have tonight, head bobbing to the beat of the music. Working in the library isn’t bad, as far as work study jobs go, and usually he gets a bit of free time to work on his assignments. He also gets some much-needed alone time; as much as he loves living with Niall, sometimes their dorm feels like too small of a space for the two of them, so Liam is happy to enjoy a little solitude.

A few moments pass before Liam notices anything out of the ordinary.

He sniffs the air, wrinkling his nose at the scent of cigarette smoke. Eyebrows furrowed, he sniffs the air again, trying to locate the source of the smell. He might just assume that there’s a smoker somewhere in the stacks — someone who’s just come back from a smoke break, the smell clinging to their clothes.

But he notes that this smells especially strong, and there’s no one close enough to him for the smell to be so potent. _No one would be that bold,_ he thinks, walking toward the scent. It grows stronger as he leaves the book cart behind, and he quickens his pace to locate the source. 

As he rounds a corner, he finds the culprit. 

A boy is standing on a table in front of an open window, his head sticking out of it as he smokes a cigarette, wisps of smoke blowing into the library behind him.

Liam clears his throat. “Excuse me?” 

The boy doesn’t seem to hear him, so Liam steps closer and taps him on the leg. It seems to startle him; his legs scramble, his hands fumble with the cigarette, and suddenly his head is back inside, looking down at Liam from the table.

“You _do_ know it’s against the rules to smoke in this building, right? You’re surrounded by thousands of flammable books, you know, all it takes is one mistake for the whole library to go up in flames — not to mention the fumes, they’re not particularly safe to inhale…would it kill you to go outside and smoke like a normal person?” he scolds.

The boy blinks at him sheepishly, silently stepping down from his place on the table. “Sorry. It, uh…it won’t happen again,” he grumbles, eyes fixed on the floor. 

Now that he’s properly inside, the boy’s features are visible.

Liam is breathless for a second — _it must be the cigarette smoke,_ he thinks — as he looks the boy up and down, notes his leather jacket, scruffy facial hair, and long, thick eyelashes. He’s easily one of the most beautiful people Liam’s ever seen; sharp cheekbones, sharp nose, a head of artfully messy bleached hair with black roots. The boy’s gaze finally lifts from the floor, his eyes meeting Liam’s, and suddenly all Liam sees are brown eyes, soft and wide and apologetic, dark circles beneath them. 

He doesn’t remember what he was scolding the boy for until he gets another whiff of the lingering smoke.

“You can be banned from the library for that, you know,” Liam says quietly.

The other boy’s eyes grow wider still, worry etched on his face as he begins to speak hurriedly. “Please, please, _please_ don’t kick me out. I’m sorry, really, it’s just — I’ve got this huge paper due for my Shakespeare class and it’s due in six hours. It’s, like, fifty percent of my grade. Please, please, _please_ , I need this class to graduate. I’ve just — I’ve been in this library all day, I was losing it, and last time I stepped out for a smoke break someone stole my seat, and I am _not_ losing this seat, okay? This is the only place where I can get any work done. My roommate and his boyfriend have been fucking nonstop for the past three days because Valentine’s Day is coming up, and believe me, they are _loud_. And I’m supposed to find three more sources, I need to have easy access to all these books—”

“Okay, okay.” Liam holds his hands up in the air as if he’s surrendering. “Just, you know. Don’t do it again. This is a library, not a nightclub, yeah?”

The boy nods, relief washing over his features. He gives an appreciative smile. “Thanks, dude. I promise, it was a one time thing.”

“Yeah. Okay. Well, uh…good luck on your paper,” Liam says with a nod. “I’ll just, uh…go back to reshelving.”

“Thanks again. You’re a lifesaver.”

Liam presses his lips together with another nod and turns around, heading back to his cart of books.

—

For once, Liam actually wants to go out.

It’s been a long week for him, and he’s always invited to Niall’s frat parties, so this time he decides to take him up on that offer. So he tries his best to get into the partying mood, music blasting from his laptop as he gets ready.

“Hey man, can I borrow that snapback of yours?” Niall asks over the music. He’s standing on his side of the room, shrugging into a jacket

“Which one?” Liam asks, staring at his own reflection in the mirror that hangs on the door. He thinks he looks good tonight — fitted jeans and a flannel shirt that’ll keep him warm in the cold February air.

“The black one.”

Liam considers this for a moment. “Yeah, sure,” he gives in, running a hand over his scalp. The short hair is prickly against his palm, freshly cut. _Breakup hair_ , Niall had called it back in November when he and Sophia broke up.

But the breakup was months ago, and Liam doesn’t think about it much lately. He’d even stopped avoiding certain parts of campus, no longer afraid to run into his ex. 

“Ready?” Niall asks, coming up to stand beside Liam in front of the mirror. “How the fuck are both of us single?”

Liam laughs and gives Niall a playful shove. “Yeah, let’s head out.”

—

A couple shots, a couple beers, a couple rum and cokes later, and Liam has already forgotten about the assignments that are waiting for him in his dorm. He’s also forgotten where Niall said he was going, but he’s really feeling this music right now, and the frat house is full of warm bodies that press against his. He forgets that he’s single, forgets that Valentine’s Day is only two days away, and instead finds himself reveling in the warmth of the alcohol as it spreads through his body. An easy smile spreads across his face — not at anyone or anything in particular, just at the sensation of being young and happy and stupidly drunk.

It’s dark in the basement of the frat house; he can’t really make out anyone’s features, just sees hair and skin and the flashes of fabric.

Someone taps on his shoulder, and Liam spins around. The first thing he sees is hair — bleached within an inch of its life, roots dark.  “ _You_ ,” he accuses, pointing. He can’t make out the other person’s face, but he _knows_ who it is, recognizes him by the hair and the cigarette smoke.

The other boy grabs him by the shoulders. “Wanna dance?” he asks, shouting to be heard over the sound of loud rap music.

“Well, I’m on the dance floor, aren’t I?” Liam shouts back, a grin playing at his lips.

The other boy takes his hand and leads him to a less crowded part of the dance floor, closer to the giant speakers that flood the house with music. He stops in his tracks and looks over his shoulder at Liam, shaking his hips a bit. A giggle spills out of Liam’s lips; the boy isn’t a great dancer, his movements lacking fluidity or grace, but maybe the liquor has made him more confident in his skills.

Liam presses against the boy, letting his hands fall to his hips so that he can press them closer together. The music slows down, and so do they, swaying from side to side, grinding against each other. They don’t speak, _can’t_ speak with the music playing so loudly from the nearby speaker, but Liam can feel the other boy’s body responding to his, and for now this is enough. Another song comes on, and another, and soon Liam is losing count. He’s soaking up the feeling of being close to someone else after months of not being touched, of jerking off to bad porn whenever Niall isn’t around for the night. He’d almost forgotten what this felt like.

Warmth courses through him, little shockwaves of excitement and arousal pumping through his veins as he brings his lips to the back of the boy’s neck. He can just make out that there’s a tattoo there, but he can’t tell what it is. His head is swimming as he presses his lips to the ink, and he can feel it as the other boy lets out a low moan, feels the vibration against his mouth.

So he kisses his neck again, then his jaw. His hand searches for a chin, which he uses to turn the stranger’s face toward him. He hesitates before pulling him into a kiss, automatically slipping his lips open, letting a tongue slide in easily. He can taste cigarette smoke and liquor, and maybe something sweet, like he’d been sipping on mixed drinks all night. It’s easy to melt into the kiss. The other boy is greedy as he licks into Liam’s mouth, hands venturing to Liam’s body, grabbing fistfuls of fabric as he tries to bring them closer together.

When Liam pulls away from the kiss, he can’t help but feel a bit dizzy. He chalks it up to the booze before pulling back and bringing his lips to the boy’s ear. “Wanna get out of here?” Liam risks asking, letting his teeth graze the boy’s earlobe.

“I— _can’t_ —” he replies. “Came here with my friend, I can’t ditch her or else she’ll hook up with her ex. Give me…give me your number, yeah?”

Liam pouts. “Gimme your phone.”

“Um…I promise I’m not blowing you off, I forgot it at home. Look, I have, uh…I have a pen.” He pulls away from Liam, turning to face him as he shoves his hands into his pockets, digging around before pulling out a cheap pen. Handing it to Liam, he rolls up his sleeve and holds his arm out.

Liam uncaps the pen, using his free hand to hold the boy’s arm still. _Text me,_ he writes, scribbling his phone number underneath. _And meet me @ Murphy’s at 8 on Sunday if you’re single._

The last part is meant to be a joke. He doesn’t really expect someone as effortlessly attractive as this guy to be at a sad single’s party on Valentine’s Day, so he lets out a laugh before nodding back toward the dance floor and handing the pen back.

“ _ZAYN!_ ” a voice shouts over the crowd.

The other boy’s head snaps up. A tall blonde girl is pushing through the crowd toward them, and she wraps her arms around Zayn’s waist once she reaches them. “Oh my god. I had _way_ too much vodka. I just — I just asked her to take me back. Oh _god_ , Zayn, why did I do that? And in front of, like, ten people!”

Zayn pulls the girl into a hug and looks up at Liam apologetically. “Raincheck?” he mouths. Liam gives a little nod, trying to hide his disappointment as Zayn and the girl disappear into the crowd.

—

**Saturday, February 13th: One Day Before Valentine’s Day**

The ink on his arm is smudged to the point of illegibility. 

Zayn can make out two numbers, and he can see ‘ _meet me @ ____ at 8 on Sunday if you’re single._ ’ 

He woke up this morning with a pounding headache, unable to remember much about the previous night. He knows he danced with someone for a long time, he knows he got a phone number, but he can’t remember a name, or even a face for that matter. All day he’s been racking his brain, trying to remember _anything_ about the guy he’d met last night.

Damn it.

He just _had_ to forget his phone last night. He just _had_ to smudge the name of the place where the guy wanted to meet him. He just _had_ to lose his phone number.

“Zayn? You’re not regretting this or anything, are you?” Doniya asks as they both watch his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Zayn’s train of thought is lost as he returns to the present. “Sorry, Don. I just kinda…zoned out. What was the question, again?”

His older sister glares at him in the mirror. “Do. You. Like. Your. _Hair_?” she asks, pointing up at the tuft of fuchsia strands.

Zayn glances at his reflection. It’s almost overkill, and he knows he’ll turn some heads on his way to class on Monday, but it suits him, he thinks. “Looks good. Way better than when you dyed it green last year,” he teases.

She smiles and gives him a gentle hip check. “It says _Happy Valentine’s Day, I’m single, would you like to date me?_ But not in a desperate way. It’s, like, cool, you know?” 

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I was going for,” Zayn replies dryly. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, reminded again of how stupid he was to forget to bring it last night. Checking the time, he adds, “I better head to work. Don’t wanna be late.” He presses a kiss to his sister’s cheek before slipping out of the bathroom to collect his things.

“Don’t be afraid to flirt with the customers,” Doniya calls out as she emerges from the bathroom, standing in the hallway. She gives an exaggerated wink as she talks. “It’ll increase your tips, _and_ maybe you’ll find a date for tomorrow.”

Rolling his eyes, Zayn grabs his bag, which he’d left outside of the bathroom, slinging it over his shoulder. “Don’t give my number out to any of your weird friends,” he says, brushing past her to leave the apartment.

—

Zayn spends most of his shift that night leaning against the bar, still trying to remember any detail about the boy he met the night before.

“Excuse me?” 

He looks up to see an impatient looking man standing in front of him, waving cash in his face. “I asked for a beer, like, three times.”

A blush rises to Zayn’s cheeks. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry. I’ll get right on that,” he apologizes, pouring the beer and setting the glass on the bar. “No charge, that one’s on me.”

The man rolls his eyes and takes the beer before turning around to head back to his table.

“ _Asshole_ ,” Zayn mutters under his breath. His eyes catch a glimpse of what the man is wearing.

_Flannel._

That’s what the guy last night had been wearing, he remembers suddenly. It’s exciting for a second, and he concentrates on trying to remember anything else about their encounter. He rolls his sleeve up and stares at the smudged writing again, trying to make something of the faint black ink.

He closes his eyes, remembers the flush of the other boy’s hips against his, remembers how smooth and fluid his movements were when he was being guided by him. He knows he’s not much of a dancer, knows that he tends to be jerky and awkward, but the other boy rolled his hips with the music so easily, like it came naturally to him. He remembers that, remembers lips against his neck, remembers kissing him…

But that’s the extent of it.

—

**Sunday, February 14th: Valentine’s Day**

Zayn pulls up a list online of bars and restaurants that are having Valentine’s Day parties tonight, hoping that one of them will jog his memory. He figures he can stop by a few of them tonight, and maybe he’ll get lucky enough to run into Mystery Guy. It takes him a while to get ready; his pink hair sticks up just the way he likes it, purposefully messy. He picks out a leather jacket and his favorite pair of jeans, checks his reflection one more time, and starts to plan out which locations he’s going to visit first.

It’s 7:30, and he’s about to walk out the door when his phone goes off. A part of him has the silly hope that maybe it’s Mystery Guy, like somehow he tracked him down and found his phone number. He doesn’t glance at the caller ID before he swipes his thumb to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Zayn, it’s Caroline. So, uh, remember the new bartender I hired?”

“Yeah?”

“He quit. Five minutes ago. Right before this big Valentine’s Day mixer that we’re putting on. Had a nervous breakdown when he heard how many people would be showing up. I know you probably don’t want to come in, but we already have a _ton_ of people who RSVP’d to come, and I’m really strapped to find another bartender. I’d ask Harry, but I figured he’d have plans with Louis…” she trails off.

Zayn really, really, _really_ wants to say no.

“I’ll guarantee that you won’t have to work karaoke for the next two months. I’ll give you time and a half for the evening. _Please_ , Zayn. This is my first big event as the manager, it would mean the world to me,” Caroline begs. 

Sighing, he gives in. “Fine. But only because you’re my friend and I don’t want you to get demoted after one event. And that thing about karaoke better be true.”

She lets out a loud cry of relief and Zayn has to hold the phone away from his ear for a second. “I swear, love, no karaoke until April. You are an _angel_ , you know that?”

“Only for you. See you in ten,” he says, ending the call.

Changing into his work clothes and apron, Zayn accepts his fate. 

He’s never going to see Mystery Guy again.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he mutters to himself on his way to work.

—

Liam sighs as he steps into the bar, Niall at his side. “I can’t believe you talked me into this,” he huffs out. 

The entire bar is decorated in bright red and pink decorations. A couple of heart shaped balloons are floating in the corners, and a giant sign at the bar has a list of drink specials. “Look at the names of those drinks,” Niall snickers.

“ _Cupid’s Shot_? _Love Potion_? Are they being serious right now?”

“Take your pick, Liam. The drinks are on me tonight, after all.”

“Just get me something normal, please. A beer would be nice,” Liam says, already exasperated with this whole evening.

Niall waggles his eyebrows before heading to the bar.

The place is pretty crowded, and the people don’t look as pathetic as Liam initially thought. He almost wants to mingle, but he’s got a mission.

The guy he met on Friday might be here. 

It’s a long shot, he realizes. If he were interested, he would’ve called him by now, or sent him a text message, at the very least. 

See, Liam’s been thinking about this guy nonstop. And the only thing he can remember is a head of bright, bleached hair. There’s a name at the tip of his tongue, too, and the lingering smell of cigarette smoke. But that’s it, and that’s certainly not enough to find him.

Why did he have to get so drunk on Friday? Why couldn’t he remember a single _useful_ thing about the guy he’d met?

 _And there’s no way a guy that cool would be at a party this lame,_ Liam muses. Still, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and stares at it for a moment, waiting for a notification.

“Still waiting for Cinderella to call?” Niall teases, handing him a pint glass.

“Can you stop calling him that?” Liam snaps. “He might actually be here, and I need you to help me find him.”

“Okay, okay. Bleached hair. Good kisser. Yadda, yadda. I’ll make out with every man I see if it helps you to find your knight in shining armor, Liam,” Niall offers sarcastically before letting out a loud laugh. “Come on, man. Let’s mingle.”

—

“How’re you doing, Zayn?” Caroline asks. “Do you need any help?”

“In the weeds, can’t talk. I have, like, ten drinks to make, didn’t write any down, _please_ pour me three pints, can’t believe you talked me into this, single people drink too much—”

Caroline immediately gets to work, pulling out three glasses and filling them with beer.

Zayn’s sweating enough that his t-shirt feels glued to his back as he races from one end of the bar to the other, pouring drink after drink, trying to keep tabs straight. They’re about an hour into the party and he’s gone into _I don’t give a fuck mode_ , which is his term for the extreme efficiency he reaches when he’s completely overwhelmed at the bar.

He almost doesn’t notice the blonde standing in front of him as he sticks a lime wedge on a gin and tonic and hands it to a woman.

“Hey, man, can I get two of those, uh, Cupid’s Shots?” the blonde asks.

“Name on the tab?”

“Horan.”

“Gimme a couple minutes,” Zayn replies. He makes a few more drinks before getting out the tumbler and shot glasses. The crowd around the bar thins out a bit, and Caroline has started taking orders on the other side, finally giving Zayn a moment to breathe. “Are these both for you, or have you managed to find love tonight?” he asks, a smirk on his face.

The blonde laughs. “No love here, just a dopey friend who’s smitten with some dude he met the other night. Four people have hit on him so far, and all he can do is check his phone waiting for this guy to text. I’m hoping I can get him drunk enough to have a good time, at least.”

Judging by the redness of his cheeks, this guy is already a little drunk. “So it’s sort of like a Cinderella thing?” Zayn comments.

“ _Exactly_ , man! I like your hair by the way. Totally festive!”

Zayn laughs and pours the shots, glancing up as Horan takes the glasses and heads back toward his friend.

Horan’s friend is sitting alone at a table in the corner of the room, his back turned to Zayn.

“Can I have a Love Potion, please?”

Jolted from his thoughts, Zayn turns to the customer standing in front of him. “Yeah, no problem.”

—

The party is starting to thin out as drunk people start taking each other home or stumbling out to find another, better party. Liam hasn’t had too much to drink, still holding onto hope that he might see The Guy tonight.

Niall is no longer glued to Liam’s side; after a few drinks and some urging on Liam’s part, he finally gave up on ‘helping Liam’ and started mingling. He’s pressed into the corner with some girl, the two of them giggly and drunk and probably smart enough to exchange numbers the proper way.

Letting out a sigh, Liam stands up from his seat at the table and makes his way over to the bar. _Might as well get another drink on Niall’s tab while he’s distracted_ , he decides.

Two people seem to be manning the bar. One of them has his back turned to Liam as he cleans up behind the bar, but he’s got a head of messy pink hair. Liam wonders for a second if he did it to match the decorations of the bar, but doesn’t get too far along with that train of thought before the woman turns to him.

“What can I get you?” she asks pleasantly, a smile on her face.

“You know what? Surprise me,” Liam says, returning her grin. “And put it on, uh, Niall Horan’s tab, please.”

“Gotcha.”

Liam takes a seat at one of the bar stools and watches as the woman makes his drink. She turns back to him and slides him something pink. “It’s called a _Love Bomb_ ,” she says. “It’s way better than it looks, trust me. What name was the tab under, again?”

“Horan,” Liam repeats, staring down at his drink. He takes a sip. It’s extremely sweet, but surprisingly tasty. “This isn’t half bad.”

“Told you, Horan!” the woman replies, her back turned as she enters his order into the computer.

“Horan? Hey man, did your friend ever…?” the guy with the pink hair asks, turning around to face Liam.

And for a second, their eyes meet, and neither of them says anything. They stare at each other, frozen.

“Zayn,” Liam finally says, the name coming back to him. “Your…your hair’s pink.”

Zayn continues to gape at Liam before a broad grin spreads across his face. “S’like…festive, or whatever.”

“You never texted me.”

“The ink smudged!”

“…oh. I thought you just…didn’t want—”

“No, no! I do. I do want…” Zayn trails off. “I’ve been thinking about you all weekend. I was going to go to all these different Valentine’s Day parties, I was so determined to find you, but then I got called into work and you sort of just…appeared, almost like…”

 _Almost like it was meant to happen,_ Liam thinks, his cheeks reddening. “I’m Liam, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Liam. I get off work in a couple hours. Wanna grab a bite to eat and, uh…talk?” Zayn asks, licking his bottom lip.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that,” Liam replies, taking a sip of his drink.

And he can’t help but smile, because maybe he won’t be alone on Valentine’s Day after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat to me on [Tumblr](http://zatan.tumblr.com)!


End file.
